I Can't Said The Ant
by Avenging Neko
Summary: Never say never. Drinking the blood is inevitable. Just a matter of time. (one shot for now)


**I Can't Said The Ant**

_(*_*) ^(*_*)* (*_*)_

Seras Victoria waited patiently on the steps of the hospital, large rifle across her lap and tucked behind the elbows resting on her knees. What was she waiting for? It's simple, really; for her Master's ammo clip to finally run out, prompting her entrance during his reload time.

**BAM1 BAM! BAM! **

There, faintly, did her new senses catch the click of the clip being released to drop carelessly to the floor.  
Kicking open the door and rolling across the floor to swing her gun up and brace it on the wood in her crouching position, the girl gives herself a pep talk; "They're not real people. They might as well be zombie pumpkins. They're jjust dolls. Take aim, just one shot and it's all over …"

**BAM1 BAM! BAM! **

Firing into the crowd of ghouls, a heat began building in her veins, throbbing through her body and causing a red film to creep slowly over her vision.

**BAM1 BAM! BAM! **

Up the stairs; more zombies. Fire, fire, **fire**!

The world was stained in blood as the large caliber bullets tore through rotted flesh, faster and faster as vampiric instinct guided the fledgling.  
"Police Girl," her Master's voice echoed in her mind as well as her ears, "when you aim, make sure to put a hole through the heart or the head. Just remember, these people did not become undead ghouls by choice. There's no way to cure them once they've been changed, it's for their own sake that we put them to rest as quickly as possible."  
Emptying her clip into the remaining zombies, the former officer turns as she reaches for a new one from her belt, glowing crimson orbs locked upon the form of the elder vampire.  
_Oh…_

With her vampire sight, her Master looked even more breath taking than before; his entire body glowed with power so bright it almost hurt to look upon him, and something seemed to tug at her senses, whispering of how powerful her master is, how far above her on the food chain, how she should bow at his feet and do everything in her power to please him.  
Her thoughts had a strangeness to them, a sharpness, and she shivered minutely as she faced her sire. "Sir, yes Sir, my Master." Loading the gun almost as a form of salute, he grins, and half chuckles, pleased with her bloodlust and obedience.

She could hear them, the ghouls, approaching from behind; she turned and a smirk pulled at her lips as she charged, dodging between the bullets from the armed ghouls with ease. Going into a baseball slide, she fires, chunks of flesh flying past her as she stops and turns, throwing an uppercut at the remaining animated corpse, she grins ferally and pins the toppled creature's head beneath her booted foot. The pounding crescendoed into a continuous roar in her ears as her eyes widened and she put pressure down on the skull, harder, and harder, until it burst like over ripened fruit, spattering blood everywhere.

Her master's voice murmured approvingly, the words lost as the fledgling's senses zeroed in on the blood – no matter that it was a ghoul's and stale – breathing heavily to integrate the scent into her entire being. Staring intently at her glove and lifting it to her face, her tongue extends towards the red droplets, aching to taste her first meal since entering unlife. Almost, almost, almost… Just shy of touching the blood, a sharp pain erupts in her throat as a sword impales itself through her flesh and out the other side. A surprised gasp takes the last of her not-truly-needed air, before eight more blades slam themselves into-and-through her torso. Blackness took her before she even hit the floor.

_(*_*) ^(*_*)* (*_*)_

"MASTER!" Jerking upright, clutching at her throat, Seras winces and whimpers as she cracks her skull on the roof of her coffin. How she hates dreaming of that night…

A presence made itself known in her head, and a sigh echoed between her ears, _'Drink the blood, Police Girl. It will help.'_

Trembling, she presses the lid from her coffin, feet tangling in the little blanket she snuck inside, leaving her to fall flat on her face as she trips. "Ugh…" Crawling over to her table where the blood pack on ice looms, she pulls herself up to a kneeling position, dragging the bucket closer and leaving a watery smear in its wake from condensation trickling down the sides. Fishing the pack from the bottom of a pool of cold water and small slivers of ice, she brings the bag to her lips with shaking fingers. Opening her mouth, teeth aching with the need for sustenance, she rests her elongated blood teeth against the cool plastic. Breathing heavily as the phantom pains from her dream-memory assault her nerves, she whimpers and presses the points of her fangs deeper into the packet. Fire explodes in her chest and she groans, twitching helplessly as she seizes up and collapses, blood trickling from her lips, the still intact transfusion bag scant inches from her face, taunting her with its proximity.

Whimpering, her own blood bubbling up her throat, Seras' mind blurs as the Paladin's words whisper inside her head. _'Your voice sounds so lovely when you're whimpering in agony, little girl.'_

"Stop it." She gurgles, clutching at her head, "Just fucking **stop it!**" The Impaler Priest's laughter roars in her head, sickeningly distorted to inhuman levels as she closes her eyes and begins thudding her head into the floor.

"I want to drink the blood…" She whispers, feeling utterly pathetic as she lays there on the floor, weak, and useless, and…

Numbness swallows her and she drops back into the darkness of unconsciousness, one hand extended beseechingly towards the blood bag.

_(*_*) ^(*_*)* (*_*)_

"Get up."

A boot nudges her ribs and she twitches, swallowing thickly as a cloying tang fills her dry mouth. _What happened..?_

"I said get up." The voice growls and the boot kicks just that little bit harder, the impact rolling her onto her back to stare dazedly up at the looming figure of her displeased Sire. Shivering and groaning, she tries to support herself in a sitting position, but her trembling arms give out from under her and send her limp form crashing back to the floor.

"Mmm… Master?" She whimpers, feeling horrible, almost as bad as when he'd shot through her lung to kill the vampire priest holding her hostage. What was wrong with her?

"I told you to drink the blood, Police Girl."

A hand fists the material of her jacket, forcing her upright and dropping her into a chair at her table, and she flops like a ragdoll, hazy eyes barely focusing on the red coated form in her room with her.

A strange sort of _pop_ sounds, and a delicious smell fills the air, and she tries to lift her head up higher to see what's going on, but her neck feels like limp spaghetti and her head lolls weakly. That same hand returns, grasping a handful of her short blonde locks and jerking her head upright – with a yelp from the fledgling – to stare at a half emptied blood bag with two enormous puncture marks in the plastic. The hand moves and grips her jaw painfully, fingers digging in between her teeth to lever it open, and force the filmy plastic to her lips.

"Drink. The. Blood."

The scar on her throat begins to throb, heating up and searing her flesh as images flash before her eyes of the hospital, how the silver had _burned_ to punish her transgressions against the natural order of things. How dare she drink the blood, a filthy vampire, who had no right to live and sin against the holy and right? Anderson's words pulse inside her head – though in truth he had said no such thing to her during their brief interaction – and she whimpers.

"Obey your Master, fledgling." Alucard's voice breaks through her mental drama, and he tips the bag so that the luke warm liquid begins to pool in her mouth.

She had gotten this far before, to taste the crimson nectar, but as before the trauma from that night made her choke and sputter. Reaching for the hand pinching her jaw open, she tugs desperately as her eyes glaze over in pain. Over and over those bayonets thudded into her body, burning her alive.

"Don't fight me on this, Seras."

The shock of him using her name stilled her motions for a moment, and he slammed her jaw shut with a resounding click, the force of her teeth impacting sending a wave of pain through her skull. His thumb moved to pinch her nose shut and her foggy brain began to panic. On some level she knew she didn't need to breathe… but try telling her mind that when she'd spent the last nineteen years doing it on a daily basis?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity later of his unrelenting grip and the _command_ beating in her head outweighing even the demented laughter of Angel Dust Anderson, she swallowed the blood.

And everything went silent.

"Good girl."

* * *

_**AN:**_So, as the summary suggests, this is a one shot. For now.  
I've just been finishing other stories in my word doc pool until my muse lets me get back to WCHB. _This one was started months ago, but never finished until now._

If you're confused, well, ask questions, and I'll answer.  
I don't have any immediate plans to continue this story, but I left it open for more. Just because she finally drank some of the blood doesn't mean she's magically gotten over the trauma Anderson put her through. ;)


End file.
